


Like a rocking chair on a mountaintop

by marginalia



Category: Emily of New Moon - L. M. Montgomery
Genre: Community: femslash08, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-14
Updated: 2008-07-14
Packaged: 2018-10-03 09:21:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10241489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginalia/pseuds/marginalia
Summary: They swam under the full moon, frolicked in the water and danced on the shore, and if Emily got the flash that night from the moonlight sparkling diamonds in Ilse's hair, she would never admit it.





	

Ilse Burnley came and went as pleased her and her alone. She arrived late and left early on Emily Starr's first day in the Blair Water school, defending Emily against those terrors of the schoolyard, their classmates with their trick of the snake in a box, and leaving a golden mark on Emily's day.

She hungered to know more about the mysterious Ilse and her apparent total freedom. Emily was beginning to see that her life in Blair Water was hemmed in on all sides by her mother's family, what Murrays allowed themselves to do and what other people thought of them. She struggled to make a place for herself, tumbling headlong into a disastrous friendship with the flattering Rhoda, who said one thing and meant another, and threw Emily aside for devious and jealous reasons.

Emily grieved for the loss as only a child could, and when she had put herself back together she once again encountered Ilse, swinging on a gate, running barefooted and bareheaded through Lofty John's bush, calling people the most ferocious names, and debating the existence of God.

There was, as it turned out, little mystery to Ilse. It seemed that she said and did everything that came into her head, with little to no pause between thought and action. It was a blessing for Emily, who lived too much in the world between her elfin ears. Ilse made her blood run hot, goading her into rows for the thrill of the fight, and then just as quickly forgiving and forgetting. They'd fleeing through the woods, to the water, picking flowers, staging plays, talking with the trees, and generally taking full and passionate joy in the beauty of the world that surrounded them.

Even as they grew older, they never tired of spending time out of doors. At fourteen they sat on the sandy shore one night, looking out over the gulf and talking until conversation veered too near truth. Slipping out of everything but their petticoats, they dipped toes into the quiet tide, and then dove into the water. They swam under the full moon, frolicked in the water and danced on the shore, and if Emily got the flash that night from the moonlight sparkling diamonds in Ilse's hair, she would never admit it.

Then there was the September when they were sixteen, canvassing for subscriptions to the Shrewsbury Times. Lost near nightfall on the way to Wiltney, they chose to sleep on the top of an unfinished haystack, a most romantic spot for talking over everything in star-lit confession. In the morning, Ilse woke alone. She peeked down over the edge, and her breath caught to see Emily dreaming at the bottom, her hair darker than ever against the hay.

The out-of-doors was full of beautiful moments for just the two of them that could never be explained to the world. The local gossips, with their questions and chattering, were incapable of seeing how fulfilled they could be in each other.

::

After high school at Shrewsbury, Emily returned to New Moon, the soul of her writing, and Ilse went on to Montreal to develop her elocution. The world changed around them quickly, but they took each other as constants, exchanging fat letters always when Ilse was away, reveling in each other's successes and comforting each other in sorrow. Emily began to be published; Ilse began to tour, first Canada and then Europe.

As the years went by, Ilse returned to Blair Water less often and for shorter visits. Emily was protective of their time together; Ilse's letters were always welcome, but they were nothing like having Ilse herself, golden and laughing, casting away the shadows. Ilse never let her drift too far away on dark dreams.

::

When they were twenty-four, Ilse returned home after her longest time away. Without even planning it they met in what they could not help but think of as Lofty John's bush, though it was now Emily's, bought and paid for. They sat beneath the Monarch birch, watching the shadows shift as afternoon edged its way towards evening.

"How long are you here for?" Emily asked, fearing yet another of Ilse's far-too-brief visits.

"Three weeks. I put my foot down. Three weeks means three weeks this time; my manager isn't allowed to contact me for fear of death." Ilse looked quite fierce enough to carry out the threat. "These days I consider it quite a luxury to wake up in the same bed two mornings running."

"I'm glad you insisted," Emily said. "I was starting to worry for you, being ordered about like that. It was as if someone had finally tamed you."

"I could still stand to be tamed a bit," Ilse laughed, "but fear not, I could never be owned."

"Not even by Perry?" Emily hoped it sounded teasing.

"Perry does love me, or at least he thinks it's me," Ilse said thoughtfully. "But I'd have to live in his world." She caught Emily's look. "No, not Stovepipe Town. Banquets and balls, where I'd be yet another an ornament on the arm of a politician. No thank you. I prefer to be known as myself and not as a decoration."

"As if you could ever be a mere decoration, Ilse!"

"Nor could you. I've known that all along, no matter how many of your love affairs people write to me about."

Emily bristled. "One interesting conversation with a man, and half of Blair Water has me married off. It's exhausting." She felt a bit reckless. "If only they knew what we got up to once upon a time."

They both fell quiet, listening to the Wind Woman in the trees and the ghosts of their childhood running along the paths.

"The thing is, I know you," Ilse said finally. "I knew you'd be here tonight. I knew where to look. I didn't have to call you away from your life with a whistle over the trees. I found you where you live." She reached out with one finger and traced, whisper soft, the edge of Emily's slightly pointed ear, then pulled back. "And you know me."

A familiar yet queer look came over Emily's face, the look that always came with the flash. This was the flash and more, a deep shivering thrill all through her, and the look shifted into her slow, secret-knowing smile.

She thought of how Ilse had never been jealous of her writing, how she had never been anything but honest, and how she had never asked any more or less than what Emily could give.

Emily turned to her, in new-discovered wonderment. "I do, don't I?"


End file.
